KINJAL'S POV
I woke up slowly.
For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was. The light in the room felt unfamiliar-brighter than last night, softer somehow. It fell through the curtains and rested quietly on the walls.
I blinked and sat up.
The room came back to me first.
The bed.
The lamp.
The silence.
Then everything else followed.
This wasn't my place.
I pulled the blanket closer around myself and looked around properly this time. In daylight, the room felt different. Less frightening. Still unfamiliar, but not as heavy as it had felt in the dark.
I was still here.
The thought settled in slowly, not with panic, but with a strange kind of acceptance.
From somewhere downstairs, I heard a faint sound-movement, maybe. The house was awake now. Alive in a way it hadn't been last night.
I stayed where I was.
For now, the room felt like the only space I understood.
I slid my feet off the bed slowly. The floor was cool beneath my toes, grounding. I stood up, hesitating for a second, then moved toward the window and pulled the curtain aside just a little.
Sunlight spilled in.
Outside, the world looked unchanged. Calm. Almost indifferent to everything that had happened yesterday. Cars passed somewhere in the distance. Life continued.
I stood near the window for a moment, watching the light move across the floor, before a soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
I froze.
For a second, my heart picked up pace before I reminded myself where I was.
"Kinjal?" a familiar voice called gently.
Relief washed over me before I could stop it.
"Yes," I replied, my voice low.
The door opened slowly, and Pankhuri stepped inside. She carried a small bag in her hand and looked at me with quiet concern, like she was checking without making it obvious.
"Good morning," she said softly. "I hope I didn't wake you."
I shook my head. "No."
She placed the bag on the chair. "I thought you might need some clothes," she said simply. "I didn't know what you'd be comfortable in, so I kept it basic."
I nodded, unsure what to say.
She didn't wait for thanks. She never did.
"How are you feeling?" Pankhuri asked, her tone practical but gentle.
"Better," I said. It wasn't a lie. It wasn't the full truth either.
"That's enough for now," she replied, as if she understood.
She glanced around the room once, then back at me. "Take your time. There's no rush."
I watched her for a moment. The room felt less unfamiliar with her in it.
When she turned to leave, she paused at the door. "I'll be downstairs," she said. "If you need anything."
And she left.
For a moment, I remained where I was, then reached for the bag.
When I opened the bag the clothes were-simple, comfortable, folded carefully. Nothing loud. Nothing unfamiliar. The kind of clothes chosen without assumptions.
Of course, I thought.
She's a doctor.
I picked one set out and placed it on the bed, exhaling softly without realizing I had been holding my breath. And went to bathroom for bath.
The bathroom door closed softly behind me.
I stood there for a moment, just looking around. Everything felt quiet-too quiet. The space was larger than I was used to, tiled neatly, light reflecting off clean surfaces. Nothing looked worn.

Nothing looked hurried.
I turned the tap slowly.
Water flowed immediately, steady and warm. I held my hands under it for a few seconds, watching it run over my skin, grounding myself in the simple movement.
Steam began to gather faintly as I stepped under the shower.
I kept my movements slow, deliberate. No rush. No sudden motions. Just water, falling evenly, washing away the weight I had carried since yesterday.
For a few minutes, I let myself stay there.
No thoughts.
No questions.
Just the sound of water filling the space.
When I finally turned the tap off, the silence returned-lighter this time. I wrapped the towel around myself and stood still, breathing normally, as if reminding my body that it was allowed to.
I reached for the clothes I had kept aside and stepped out of the shower.
AUTHOR'S POV.
Kinjal changed quietly, the fabric settling against her skin without resistance. The clothes were simple, easy to wear-chosen for comfort, not attention.
The kurta was soft brown cotton, patterned lightly-subtle enough to fade into the background. It sat easily on her frame, neither tight nor loose, the fabric falling where it was meant to without demanding attention. The sleeves rested just below her elbows, comfortable, unrestricting.
The white palazzo was plain, modest in its simplicity. Clean lines. No unnecessary detail. The kind of clothing that didn't invite eyes, didn't ask questions-just existed quietly.
They weren't her clothes.
But they didn't feel strange either.
They were the kind of clothes a doctor would pick without thinking twice-simple, practical, meant for healing days, not for being seen.
Kinjal smoothed the fabric once, then stepped out of the bathroom, towel folded neatly in her hands.
She paused near the mirror.
For a moment, she didn't recognise the girl looking back at her.
The clothes were clean. Her hair still damp. Her face... calmer than last night.
Kinjal reached up, fingers instinctively going to gather her hair-
and then she stopped.
Her hand froze midway.
She let her hair fall back down slowly, covering her neck, as if her body remembered something her mind didn't want to revisit just yet.
A quiet breath left her lips.
It's okay, she told herself.
She folded the towel properly, placed it aside, and sat on the edge of the bed-careful, like the room itself might break if she wasn't gentle enough.
Outside, the house remained unfamiliar and silent.
But for the first time since she'd arrived,
the silence didn't feel like it was closing in.
*****
Rudra was already seated at the dining table when Pankhuri came downstairs.
A cup of coffee rested near his hand, steam long gone. His phone lay face-down on the table, forgotten for the moment. Morning light filtered in through the glass doors, spreading quietly across the room.
Pankhuri poured herself a glass of water and took the chair opposite him.
"She's up," she said, keeping her voice even.
Rudra nodded once. "Good."
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The house carried on around them-soft sounds, familiar stillness.
"If she's feeling better," Rudra said finally, tone practical, "we should ask where she's from. If there's family here... we can drop her back."
Pankhuri's fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
"Not yet," she said.
Rudra looked up, his gaze sharpening just a little. "Why?"
"I don't want to ask her anything today," Pankhuri replied calmly. "Not where she lives. Not who she knows."
He leaned back in his chair. "She'll have to answer at some point."
"I know." Pankhuri met his eyes. "Just not today."
Rudra studied her for a moment, silent.
"Give me two days," she added quietly.
"Two days won't change much," he said.
Pankhuri didn't look away.
"It might," she replied. "Enough for me to know what questions I should ask-and which ones I shouldn't."
That made him pause.
"And if two days aren't enough?" Rudra asked.
"Then I'll take responsibility for asking anyway," she said. "But not before that."
The room fell silent again.
Rudra exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening for a brief second before he nodded. "Two days," he said. "After that, we stop guessing."
Pankhuri inclined her head slightly. "That's fair."
Rudra picked up his coffee, the decision settled.
Two days.
She hoped they would be enough.
Pankhuri set her glass aside and stood up.
"I'll call her down for breakfast," she said.
Rudra didn't reply. He simply nodded, lifting his coffee again as if the matter was settled.
Upstairs, Kinjal sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded loosely in her lap.
Her thoughts weren't loud. They didn't rush. They just lingered-unfinished, scattered, unwilling to settle anywhere for too long. She stared at the floor for a while, then at nothing in particular.
A voice drifted up from downstairs.
"Kinjal?" Pankhuri's called gently. "You can come down whenever you're ready."
"Okay," she replied, her voice quiet.
She stood, smoothed the fabric of her kurta once out of habit, and took a slow breath. After a brief pause, she opened the door and stepped out.
The stairs felt longer than they had the night before.
She descended carefully, one step at a time, her hand brushing the railing for balance. The house was quiet, but not asleep-awake in a calm, unhurried way.
At the bottom, the dining area came into view.
Pankhuri stood near the table, already there. A little distance away, Rudra sat on a chair near the window, phone in hand, coffee resting beside him. Dressed simply in a dark t-shirt and trouser, he looked settled into his morning routine.
Kinjal reached the last few steps and slowed instinctively, taking a breath before stepping fully into the space below.
Pankhuri noticed her the moment Kinjal stepped into the dining area.
"There you are," she said gently, pulling a chair out. "Come, sit."
Kinjal moved forward and took the seat, her movements quiet, careful, as if she didn't want to disturb the space more than necessary. She kept her hands folded in her lap, eyes briefly dropping to the table before lifting again.
"Coffee?" Pankhuri asked, already reaching for the mug.
"Coffee?" she asked gently.
Kinjal nodded.
Pankhuri placed the cup in front of her and sat beside her.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly. "Feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," Kinjal replied, her voice low.
The answer was simple. The silence that followed wasn't awkward-just unfilled. Coffee steam rose between them. The house hummed faintly around them, settling into its morning rhythm.
Then-
"Okay, why does it feel like I've walked into a hospital ward?"
Adi's voice broke the quiet as he entered the room.
Adi walked in fully now, eyes moving between the table and the people seated around it.
"What?" he asked, grinning. "Why does everyone look like they're attending a silent retreat this early in the morning?"
Pankhuri shot him a look. "Adi."
"I'm just saying," he replied, pulling a chair and sitting down. "Mornings are supposed to have noise. At least complaints. Preferably from Rudra."
Rudra didn't look up. "You talk enough for all of us."
Adi smiled wider. "See? This is what I missed."
Rudra finally lifted his gaze, eyes flicking to Adi with mild disbelief.
"Didn't you have a meeting today?" he asked flatly.
Adi froze for half a second-then waved it off casually.
"I did. It got cancelled."
Pankhuri arched a brow. "And instead of rescheduling it like a normal person, you decided to come here?"
Adi grinned, unapologetic. "Obviously. Priorities."
Pankhuri arched an eyebrow.
"You can't even breathe without Rudra for a day, can you?"
Adi grinned instantly.
"What to do? Rudra is my jaan."
Kinjal's fingers tightened slightly around the coffee cup. She didn't say anything, but her eyes flickered between them-this strange, easy familiarity both comforting and confusing at the same time.
Pankhuri raised an eyebrow, amused.
"why does it feel like there's something going on between you two."
Rudra finally looked up, unimpressed.
"Hey. Don't start saying random things, alright?" he said flatly. "And for the record-no idea about him, but I'm straight. Clear?"
Adi blinked once. Then laughed.
"What do you mean no idea about me?" he said, tapping Rudra's shoulder lightly. "I'm straight too. And even if I wasn't, I'd still look for someone better than a grumpy statue like you."
Pankhuri groaned.
"Enough, guys," she cut in quickly. "It's morning. Please don't start already."
Adi grinned, unapologetic.
"I'm just saying. Truth deserves expression."
Rudra took a slow sip of his coffee, clearly done with the topic.
"You talk too much."
"And yet," Adi replied cheerfully, settling into his chair, "you'd miss me if I didn't."
From her seat, Kinjal watched all of this quietly.
The way they spoke-casual, teasing, comfortable-felt unreal to her. No raised voices. No fear hiding between words. Just people... talking. Laughing. Existing without tension.
Adi glanced at Pankhuri casually.
"So... when is Manav coming back? It's been a long time since he went to Indore."
Pankhuri gave him a sideways look.
"I don't know when he'll come back. But why do you miss him so much?"
She smirked. "I don't even miss him this much."
Rudra didn't miss the beat.
"See?" he said dryly. "I told you. Something's definitely wrong here."
Adi rolled his eyes.
"Oh please. Stop overthinking everything. I'm just concerned."
"Concerned," Rudra repeated flatly.
Pankhuri sighed, though her smile stayed.
"Honestly, you two are exhausting."
Adi laughed it off. Rudra went back to his coffee.
Kinjal sat quietly, listening to them talk, watching the easy rhythm they shared. The laughter wasn't loud, the jokes weren't sharp-but the warmth was real. Unforced. Safe.
She wrapped her fingers around the cup again, feeling the heat seep into her palms.
Maybe this place wasn't hers.
Maybe this comfort wasn't permanent.
But for now, it was enough.
And that was more than she had expected.
She didn't belong here. She knew that.
But for this moment, the house didn't make her feel unwanted either.
This chapter is a slow one-a pause before things move forward. Thank you for reading and supporting the story. It truly means a lot 🤍